It's been so long since we never met
by storiesseldomtold
Summary: "I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything. Maybe we're from the same star." Secretary of State Elizabeth Hanson and military ethics specialist Henry McCord finally have that long overdue meeting. Completely AU.
1. Prologue

_A/N: Hey y'all, welcome to my new multi-chapter! It's completely AU and I'm excited for what you think. Elizabeth and Henry never met in college but fate moves in lots of bends and turns to make the inevitable happen. Thanks to teammccord for helping me make the title sound just right. Sending you sparkles and hearts if you leave a review xo_

* * *

 **Prologue**  
 **UVA, 28 years ago**

The wind was blowing through the bare branches, making the leftover leaves flutter down to the cold, snow-filled ground. Elizabeth Adams moved cautiously over the slippery hill leading from her dorm to the auditorium: it was the first day of the spring semester and she had a new class to get to and boy, was she excited. Moral and Political Philosophy was a class she'd been looking forward to for a while now: it was an advanced class but with the credits she'd earned at Houghton Hall, she was able to take it already. Professor Lowell was considered the most driven person on campus, his lectures interesting and his voice powerful enough to transfer the message. So naturally, Elizabeth picked up the pace: she didn't want to be late for what was going to be the best class _ever_.

Taking place in the auditorium, she saw a handsome young man come in. He placed his bag on the desk and started unpacking, laying out some notebooks, a pencil case and a large manual on the table. He then sat down behind the desk before taking a book in his hand, already lost in it ten seconds in. Elizabeth frowned and started wondering who this boy wonder could be. Not Professor Lowell, she assumed. Maybe some 'funny' student who pretended to be the professor to get some false sense of satisfaction? She got her answer when the actual professor walked in, immediately greeting them all, and continuing with: "This handsome fella sitting here is Henry McCord, the new TA this semester! He'll be attending all the classes and will also be available during office hours for any questions you may have, or for discussions you wish to have with someone that isn't an old man. Now…"

The class was so very promising, getting into various forms of ethics in the first two hours.

"But how do hedonists minimize pain in their way of life? Surely, there can't be a way to delete it all?" someone asked. Elizabeth raised her hand and the professor looked up at her.

"Yes, Miss…" he asked.

"Adams," she answered. He nodded, urging her to go ahead.

"Of course, 'deleting' all the negative things in life was impossible. The ancient Greeks had to deal with war, drought, disease, throwing babies down cliffs because they didn't look strong enough… They couldn't just get rid of that. But hedonists believed that pleasure was their main goal in life, so they tried to really get that pleasure out of everything, usually by forgetting about the negative. You could say that their belief in the joys of life was so big, that they couldn't see the bad anymore. And I'm not saying there wasn't someone whining when the jug of wine was empty, but that was a problem they could take, a problem they could overcome. And the rest was filtered out, and they lived as if it didn't existed."

"Well said. I hope Miss Adams provided you with a feasible enough explanation…" the professor continued.

Elizabeth always got a kick when speaking in lectures, she felt… powerful, important, and just _heard_. She looked around, her face still a little flushed with excitement, and she saw Mister TA Henry McCord smiling at her from his seat in the front row, and she couldn't help but feel good, really, really good.

While exiting lecture hall 2.06, she felt a strong hand tug at her shoulder. She smiled when she smelled the familiar scent of his cologne, making her spin around in an instant and throwing herself on him. She closed her eyes as she felt his arms circle her waist, pulling her tighter to him.

"Hey," she heard him say, and she looked up.

"How are you here?" she practically screamed before jumping to his face, fiercely kissing him. He moaned into the kiss before breaking it.

"Damn Lizzy, will you let me answer?" he teased. "I kinda set some things up with your roommate to find out your schedule and those things, y'know?"

She swatted his arm, "I'm not sure if I want to hug or kill the both of you."

He leaned in, and captured her lips in another kiss. "It wasn't too busy at school yet, so I figured I could fit in a little visit to see my precious girlfriend again. After seeing you every day during winter break, a week of not seeing you turned out to be a _very_ long time."

"I'm so happy you're here, Scott," she said as she smiled, and once again closed the gap between them.

What she didn't see was a downhearted Henry McCord walking back into the lecture hall after racing after her with the intention of asking her out for coffee.

 _Some things just aren't meant to be_ , he thought.

Or are they?


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N: Scott-haters (so everyone, myself included), you'll be pleased with where Elizabeth and Scott are at. To get you up to speed with where Elizabeth's at in her life: when Marsh died, Conrad asked Elizabeth to be the new Secretary of State, right out of the CIA._

 _I leave on holiday on Wednesday until the 24th, so I probably won't be able to update until then._

 _Thanks for all of your reviews, I appreciate them immensely! Xoxoxo_

* * *

 **Chapter 1**  
 **Present Day**

Elizabeth jumped up from her desk when she heard her phone ring. Shit, must've fallen asleep while working. Again. She sighed when she read _Russell Jackson_ on her screen.

"Yeah, what's up, Russell?" she said, surprised by the sleepy creakiness of her voice.

"Bess, I need you to come to the White House. It's urgent," he answered.

"Mmmkay, be there as soon as I can," she said, the haze of sleep preventing her from forming coherent sentences, it seemed.

"Bess. NOW," Russell said, before hanging up the phone.

She groaned, "Uuurgh, sure."

Realizing she didn't even know the time, she looked at her phone again. 5:28 AM. Not that bad. She got up and turned the corner, silently marching up the stairs, trying not to wake up Jason. On the way to her bedroom, she walked past Stevie's bedroom and heard a strange rumbling behind her door: not something you'd expect at five thirty in the morning. And definitely not from Stevie, who was supposed to be studying with her friend Ellie last night, before staying over. She sighed, thinking _I don't have time for this_ , but she opened the door nonetheless.

Stevie was standing in front of her closet, dozens of skirts, shirts and dresses scattered all over the floor.

"Stevie, what the hell are you doing?"

Stevie turned around swiftly, her blonde hair twirling along with her.

"Mom! What are you doing up?" she said.

Elizabeth frowned, "Hey, I could ask you the same thing, you know?"

Averting her gaze, Stevie continued, "I have an oral today I forgot about and I can't go do it in jeans and t-shirt and–"

"How do you _forget_ about an oral exam, Stevie?"

"I don't know, Mom!" she said, moving to her bed and taking a seat on it, "Dad's been giving me a hard time lately, and it's been so busy." She placed her face into her palms and sighed, hard.

Elizabeth moved to sit next to her and put an arm around her eldest child's shoulders. "That's what Dad does, baby. It's why I divorced him."

They both snickered at that. Twelve years into the divorce, Scott Hanson was still the greatest pain in the ass he was during the last years of their marriage. Scott had graduated in economics from Princeton with honours and had pursued a career in the corporate sector, while Elizabeth got recruited by the CIA and had worked there throughout their marriage. When Scott finally reached the top of the corporate ladder and was appointed CEO of the largest building firm in Virginia and Maryland, his office moved to Baltimore, leaving Elizabeth alone in their Georgetown home more often than not in the evenings with a one-year-old baby boy and a fussy pre-teen. He got an apartment in Baltimore because "darling, it's much easier for me to stay there during the week, I'll be sure to come home over the weekend". But he got sloppy, and most importantly, he forgot where exactly his wife was employed and what she was capable of. So when Elizabeth found out about that biweekly gap in his schedule, she went up to Baltimore one afternoon and caught him in his apartment with his assistant, Pamela. She filed for divorce the same day.

Elizabeth pulled back from the hug and took a black dress off the floor. "You should wear this, it looks good on you."

Stevie smiled, "Thanks, Mom."

"Any time," she said. She kissed her daughter's forehead and walked to the door, before turning around for a last time. "I've been summoned to the White House, baby. Good luck today."

Stevie looked up at her with watery eyes and smiled, mouthing a "thank you" before getting up to put on the black dress.

.::.

Marching into the Oval Office, she saw Russell and Conrad already discussing something at his desk, both of them focused on the papers in front of them.

"Ah, Bess, glad you could join us," Conrad said, stretching out his hand, urging her to sit down on the velvety blue couch.

"Gentlemen," she nodded in their direction, "what's this about?"

Russell and Conrad both stared at her, eyes wide as if they'd never blink again.

"We have a situation," Conrad said.

"A situation?" she repeated. "Feel free to elaborate."

"Remember February last year when Nina Edmonds, the Washington Post journalist, went missing while reporting in Syria?" Russell answered.

She frowned, "Yes…"

"Well, we found her," Conrad continued.

"Again, please elaborate" Elizabeth said, annoyed by her boss and his little helper.

"She's being held hostage by president Abboud. We don't know much apart from that. One of ours in Syria found out about a week ago, but didn't report it because he wanted to know for sure. Then just a few hours ago, we got confirmation from him through his handler at DIA. He's seen Nina Edmonds and she's… not well," Conrad said, and he sighed.

"We know now that Abboud is keeping Edmonds in a very secure and secret location. Clearly, he's been keeping her hidden for most of his confidants, and probably for good reason. Our guy has only seen her on a screen, while watching Abboud communicate with someone who's guarding her. That means we don't know where she is, yet, or what Abboud's keeping her imprisoned for. We don't know if she's being used as bait for something, or if he wants to extract information from her, we have no idea."

"So…" Elizabeth continued, "We better create a taskforce then?"

"Yes, we're already on it. We want some people from DIA in there, including his handler and two other higher-ranking operators, also someone from the Defense department, and we're borrowing a CIA analyst too. You'll be too busy doing other things to be the analyst on this, Bess, you understand," Russell said.

Elizabeth shook her head, "Sure, it's not my job anymore. But don't shoot me if I decide to pitch in."

Conrad raised his hands in the air, "Nothing we can do about that." She smiled at that.

"Sir, can we talk for a minute? In private," Elizabeth said.

"Yeah, absolutely," he answered, motioning with his hand for Russell to leave.

Conrad moved to sit on the couch across from Elizabeth. "What can I do for you, Bess?"

"So you really have no idea why Abboud's keeping her there?" she asked.

He frowned, "No… Why? Did you think of something?"

She shook her head, "No, it's just… everything surrounding Marsh's death has been in my head, even after all this time, and I know it probably doesn't have anything to do with it, but the idea's always present in the back of my mind."

He sighed and gave her a soft smile, "I can almost assure you when I say that that's completely over. Ancient history. You don't have to worry about that anymore. There's enough other evil in the world you can worry about now."

She copied his expression of wry relief and worry, and she nodded. "You got that right, sir. It never seems to end, does it?"

Conrad got up and patted her on the shoulder, before returning to his desk.

"Evil doesn't quit, Bess, but neither do we."

.::.

When the elevator opened, she saw not one, not even three, but all five of them waiting for her in the hall.

"Am I in trouble?" she asked, keeping her face innocently stoic.

"Good morning, Madam Secretary," Nadine greeted. Elizabeth appreciated that all members of her staff had accustomed to her and her friendly morning ways.

"Good morning, Nadine," she answered with a smile. "And everyone else."

A collective grumble of _good morning_ s were given to her in response, to which she had to suppress a chuckle.

"We've been briefed about the Nina Edmonds situation," Nadine continued.

"I'm preparing a general preliminary statement, just to let the world know she's still out there. I'll contact her parents and tell them about the news, if you wish," Daisy said.

"Uhm, no, I'd like to do that myself – invite them here and explain what's going on."

Daisy nodded in confirmation, before going to her office.

"We'll open up a slot in your schedule for this afternoon so you can receive them," Nadine said, and she wandered off too.

"Okay, who's next?" Elizabeth continued.

Jay interrupted, "You have a meeting with the German ambassador this afternoon. We don't know what she wants yet, but I wonder if I could join? The Germans always tend to… rock the boat policy-wise."

Elizabeth shook her head, "Sure, come to my office when it's supposed to start." And he walked off.

"I wrote a first and second draft for your speech at the opening of the new international school in Canada next week. Can we do a run-through?" Matt asked.

She frowned, "Can we do that tomorrow maybe? It's quite the busy day today, with the developments in the Nina Edmonds situation."

He nodded, and disappeared into his office.

"So that leaves you," she said, turning to Blake.

"Yes, Madam Secretary. Your ex-husband is in your office."

She nearly spit out the imaginary coffee she was already savouring in her empty mouth.

"What's he doing here? And more importantly, who let him in?"

"He didn't say, and I'm loathe to admit that it was me," he said, somewhat guiltily.

"Oh Blake, I thought I raised you better than this," she said, before entering her office and closing the door behind her with a load bang.

Scott Hanson jumped up from the couch at the sound, standing up and nodding at her. "Elizabeth," he said.

"Who told you you were allowed to contaminate my couch by sitting on it?"

The most important thing to know about where Elizabeth and Scott were at was that they were not friendly with each other. Not at all. It still stung that he'd cheated on her, but the way in which he acted as if it had been nothing, "just a little slip", fuelled her hate fire even more. And he kept on playing dumb, even twelve years later.

"Come on, Elizabeth, let's be civil here."

She let out a loud, fake laugh, "Hah! You threw civil out the window years ago."

He balled his fists and sighed loudly, a way to compose himself. "I'm here about Stevie."

"Oh right, our daughter Stevie, the one you've practically neglected for the past decade? You mean that one, that Stevie?" she spat at him.

"Elizabeth… I'm… I'm simply worried about her."

She stopped taking folders out of her bag to fully face him, twirling around swiftly. "You're what now?" she said.

"I feel like she's been struggling in school and in her personal life as well, and since she won't talk to me, I thought I'd tell you," he said, seemingly innocent eyes looking up at her through his rectangular glasses.

"Well, of course she won't talk to you – she doesn't talk about her problems _to_ the person who's causing them, Scott!"

They were interrupted by a gentle double knock on the door.

"Ma'am, it's time for your meeting at the White House," Blake said.

"Sorry, Scott," she said at him, smug grin on her face, before looking at Blake. "Will you show him out, please?"

She heard him nearly shouting "we're not done!" behind her.

 _We'll see about that_ , she thought.

.::.

Russell had waited for her, before walking her to the task force room.

"We've called it Post Op. Since it's an _op_ eration for the Washington _Post_ , you get me?"

"So people will assume we'll be talking about hospitals and surgeries instead."

"Affirmative," he answered, and they shared a knowing smile.

He opened the door to a room like any other in the White House, but this one housed a group of masterminds of all sorts.

"Post Op, I'd like you to meet Secretary of State, Elizabeth Hanson," he said, drawing all of their attention. "Bess, meet Post Op."

She walked towards the group of lined up men and women, starting at the very left.

"Michaela Roberts, CIA. I think we've briefly met when you were still working with us."

"We have. Good to see you here," Elizabeth answered, and she moved on.

"Brian Hawkins, from Defense."

She nodded, "Nice to meet you."

Russell interjected, "This is Jane Fellows and Marcus Swift, both DIA." She shook both their hands, and added a "glad to meet you" to both handshakes. "And this is our guy's handler–"

"Henry McCord," she heard a soft voice next to her say.

And when she looked up, it was like she was catapulted back in time to that first Moral and Political Philosophy lecture at UVA, and she swallowed, hard.

"It's very nice to finally meet you."


	3. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hey friends! First of all, sorry for the delay, been on vacay where I wasn't able to write (cuz I was chilling too hard) and then I was studying for my resits, and work, and more laziness… BUT I'M BACK. AND SO IS THIS STORY. Here's a bit of Henry backstory for you. It's a little shorter than usual, but I just wanted to post_ something _._

 _Also, thank you SO much for the nice reviews, and keep it up please, they are my fuel._

 _For Dee. May you have many more birthdays_

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

"It's very nice to finally meet you," he said.

She was stunned, almost mesmerized, he'd say. She was staring at him, her mouth slightly agape and a small frown on her face.

 _She remembers_ , he thought then, and his smile widened even more.

But then she shook her head, just about able to answer him: "Nice to meet you too."

And she smiled. At him. It was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen, to finally have one of her smiles being directed at him.

When he'd seen her with her boyfriend all those years ago after class, naturally, he'd stopped pursuing her – he wasn't the my-purpose-in-life-is-to-break-up-perfectly-happy-couples kinda guy after all. He could still look at her, and think about her, and just wish they'd maybe break up for some reason, somehow, sometime. But they didn't. He had to admit that that semester had been hard on him, really hard. He had to see her every time in class, had to listen to her witty responses and insightful remarks, the ones she made with that nice, raspy voice of hers. He had to welcome her at his office hours – which she frequented quite regularly, not to say always – and answer her questions. It was hard. A burden almost. He used to feel his face flare up at the sight of her, couldn't help himself from looking at her… her _everything_. Sure her boobs were nice, and her legs, but _God_ , her eyes, her cheekbones, hell, even her elbows made him weak in the knees. Ah yes, her knees too.

But after the semester ended, she'd been out of his class (got an A, no surprise), and mostly out of his eye too. He used to spot her in the library, just like so many times before, or when she was lying on the green with a few of her friends. And then she was gone. She'd graduated. And he'd stayed behind, working for the university while being sent out for a mission here and there. He'd felt lonely.

Not long after though, he'd met Sophie Conroy, a new girl from Vermont who'd come to UVA to get her PhD in French Literature. She was a pretty girl, short, light skin, dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. She'd sat next to him at the bus stop once – reading –, he'd asked her what it was – it was Rimbaud –, and the rest was history.

They'd gotten married a year after, on a crisp spring day on a distant field at her family's pig farm. Two years later, they'd announced the big news that a little girl would be coming their way by putting a big silver bow on one of the piglets and letting it roam the premises freely. They'd asked their families to guess what it was going to be, and the bright pink piggy entered the greenhouse at _just_ the right time – he still can't believe the animal wasn't a pre-programmed robot. Miracles do happen.

Alison had been a quiet baby, a sweet child, and a strong one too. She had to be.

Her Mom had been diagnosed with stage IV ovarian cancer when Alison was only eight. A 17% survival rate. But Sophie hadn't made the 17%.

Henry had been devastated, as could've been expected. His loving, beautiful, literature-loving, family-loving, _everything_ -loving wife was… gone. His daughter was left without her mother, he was left without his partner, his lover, his best friend.

He couldn't even write her a eulogy. So he'd opted for something else. Her favourite poem.

 _Assez vu. La vision s'est rencontrée à tous les airs.  
Assez eu. Rumeurs des villes, le soir, et au soleil, et toujours.  
Assez connu. Les arrêts de la vie. – Ô Rumeurs et Visions!_

 _Départ dans l'affection et le bruit neufs!_

 _/_

 _Everything seen. The vision gleams in every air._

 _Everything had. The far sound of cities, in the evening, in sunlight, and always._

 _Everything known. These are the stops of life. – O Tumult! O Visions!_

 _Departure in affection, and shining sounds!_

 _\- Arthur Rimbaud_

Fitting.

They'd had a couple of rough years, tough, on both of them.

Henry had still been teaching at UVA, but it was becoming too much of a struggle, walking through those halls every day, expecting to run into her around some corner, like they used to. Expecting her to drop by his office for lunch or coffee, like she used to. But she never did. Not anymore.

Alison had hated the country life. So much… mud everywhere. And stench. That was what she'd told her Dad, not wanting to admit that their old house still smelled of her, that she woke up at night sometimes, feeling the ghost of her Mom's hand petting her hair. But it wasn't her. Not anymore.

And so they'd moved to an apartment in Georgetown. Close to the city for her, close to another university for him. Away from the memories they'd left behind in Virginia – or had tried to at least –, for them.

They'd been living in Georgetown for over three years. Alison sixteen, already preparing to get a degree in fashion, and Henry… old, he liked to think himself. He still didn't feel like himself again, and he doubted he ever would.

Until a few months ago, an opportunity came along. "A chance to sculpt the great, young international minds, in line to become the next world leaders": a job at the DC War College. He'd gladly taken it, he was ready for the exhilarating discussions with people who had so many different minds from so many different parts of the world.

He began feeling okay again, _alive_.

And it was then that he'd seen _her_.

He hadn't thought about her in a long time, years maybe. But then, all of a sudden, there she was, gracing the front page of his Washington Post:

" _CIA analyst Elizabeth Hanson appointed new Secretary of State"_

And as he'd read the article:

Hanson? She must've married him. Or someone else. Of course she has, look at her. Wow, she's still so beautiful. Oh wait, single mom? She's a mom. Did he die? Oh divorce. Her hair looks so soft. What did he do to her? Who would do _anything_ to her? Wow, Dalton appointing her right out of the CIA. Without any political experience? She must be good. Ah, Dalton was in the CIA too. He must've known her well. Know her well. Wow. She's the Secretary of State. Elizabeth Adams is the Secretary of State.

"Wow," he'd whispered, a hint of a smile on his face. He'd honestly felt proud. One of his students had become the head diplomat of the USA. And not just any student.

 _The_ student.

.::.

They updated the Secretary on the state of affairs and on how they wished to proceed now.

"Adil is in a good situation over there, no one suspects anything – not that we know of, at least," Henry said. "We have to consider letting him try and get closer to Abboud, and to more information about Nina."

Elizabeth nodded, "If you think he's in the situation to be able to do that, you should tell him to… do… that."

He frowned at her lack of good wording, just a little, just enough to make her avert her gaze to her lap with a frown of her own.

 _Well done, McCord._

The meeting was wrapped up, and Elizabeth motioned to stand, and just as he wanted to walk up to her:

"Henry, would you mind making some more coffee, please?" Michaela asked.

He looked up at her, "Sure, no problem, let me get some from… the coffee room."

And he walked off. No talking to Elizabeth today then, he doubted she'd still be in their office when he came back.

He heard the loud clacking of heels approaching from behind, and just as he turned around, he saw a panting, smiling Elizabeth Hanson halting in front of him.

And now it was like _he_ was catapulted back in time to _after_ that first Moral and Political Philosophy class, except now _she_ was the one running after _him_. Yes. Running.

"Hi," she managed to say, huffing breaths all over the place. "I'm not as in shape as I used to be."

"Oh, I highly doubt it," he chuckled.

"Do… Uhmmm. D–" sigh "Do you by any chance re– remember me?"

 _She remembers_ , he thought. And he smiled.


End file.
